The Broken Hearts Club
by unilocular
Summary: How do you move on when your love leaves you behind? With a little help from your friends, of course. Tim and Tony friendship (no slash), team as family with a little father/son from Gibbs for both.


**Disclaimer : **All characters and anything recognizable remain property of CBS and their creators. I made absolutely no money from this work of fiction.

**Title : The Broken Hearts Club  
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**Warnings : Mild alcohol use.  
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**Author's Note :** _For those anxiously waiting for Fathers and Other Strangers, sorry, but this one shot won out. I'm also sorry for the angsty, romance-stuff. The next story will be action-packed, promise.  
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_Mentions of Tiva (I know, I know, but it fit the story, I swear), angsty relationship, Tim and Tony friendship and a little team as family. _

_What more could you want? Enjoy and let me know what you think. _

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**Saturday, September 20, 2014 – 10:41pm – Jefferson's Pub – Capitol Hill, Washington, DC –**

"You ready for another, man?"

Tim doesn't bother to look up, just gestures for a refill. A bottle appears in his vision and the Riesling cascades into his glass like a waterfall. If he could see straight, it might actually be beautiful. As soon as the bartender's done, he takes a quick sip. The raw sweetness flows through him, shoving him closer to the oblivion he needs right now.

"Are sure you're okay?"

He nods mechanically. "Already told you I'm fine."

The bartender lingers for a moment - "If you need anything, let me know" - and then, he's gone.

_If I need anything…_

Tim snorts, downs half the glass in a single gulp.

_What I need is on a plane headed for the other side of the world. _

He always knew it would end this way.

Ever since Delilah moved in at the beginning of summer, he knew it wouldn't end any different. He still did everything he could to make her stay. His free weekends disappeared into building ramps over that weird stair leading into his kitchen and switching out his shower for a tub with a door. He put his beloved bookshelves on Craigslist and handed them over thought to a floppy-haired college kid without a second thought. He reduced the clutter - banishing most of his possessions to that creepy, basement storage unit - so she could maneuver her wheelchair around the tight space of his home…what should've been their home.

But it didn't work. None of it worked.

By the time September rolled around, she amassed everything she needed for her trip. Every time he helped her pack a bag, another piece of his heart chipped away. But he couldn't ask her to stay because she needed to choose her own path. Even when he dropped her off at the airport, he half-expected her to turn around and come back. And he almost thought she changed her mind once, when she wheeled herself back for one last kiss.

One last kiss, then her face beamed as she headed towards her new life.

_Her new life without me. _

Hot tears prick to his eyes and Tim glances up to the bar, trying to hold them at bay. The shelves behind the bar are lit with different colored neon lights, illuminating the bottles on them. Everything blends together into a vicious carousel and he rests his head on the bar, unable to face it any longer.

A hand slaps his back, hard. "Heya, McSadSack, fancy running into you here."

"Go away, Tony," Tim mumbles, more to the bartop than his friend.

But Tony doesn't. He slides into the adjacent seat, calls for the bartender.

"Club soda for me and a…what is my friend here drinking anyway?"

"Riesling."

Tony lets out a huff. "Geez, McGee, you can't even get drunk right. Well, he'll have another one. Looks like it's too late to change now."

When Tim feels the thud of Tony's glass, he jerks his head up. "Please, Tony, not tonight."

"What? Share a drink?" Tony holds his hand innocently to his chest. "I ran into you, remember?"

Tim squints at him, trying to see him through the haze. Tony's hair is windswept and his cheeks are bright red from the freezing cold. Based on the way he still shivers and his missing jacket, he spent more time than he expected to outside.

_I bet he's been looking for me for a while. _

"You should've just traced my phone," Tim mumbles.

"That's what you're for, McGPS." Tony cocks a grin, sips his soda. "I'd have asked Bishop, but then she'd want to come and I'd have to tell her no. Talk about awkward. Plus, this really isn't her scene anyway." He gestures at the dark-wood décor and TVs playing football, even though she'd fit in here better than either of them. "You know, I'm really surprised they had white wine…"

"They didn't. They had to get a couple bottles from the restaurant across the street."

"Way to be a troublemaker, McGee."

When Tony taps his back again, Tim chuckles humorlessly. They sit in silence for what feels like a long time, letting the quiet din of the sportscasters and other patrons serve as their conversation. During their second round, Tony makes eyes at a pretty brunette. But when she approaches, he shakes his head. Half-way through their third drink, Tim lets out a broken sigh.

"Delilah left today, Tony." He swallows hard. "She's gone."

"I know, Tim. That's why I'm here."

He fiddles with his wine glass. "The apartment feels so empty without her. I got rid of everything because I thought it could make her stay...but she still left."

Tony shrugs. "Maybe this is what she needs this right now."

"What? To run to the other side of the world?"

Tony shakes his head. "To prove to herself that she can."

Tim's frown deepens. "I just don't understand..."

"A lot of things changed for her after the accident – " the word makes Tim flinch visibly " - including you. You treated her like she was made out of glass, like if she even drove a car alone she could break."

Tim mulls over his friend's statement, knowing that he's right.

But Tony wasn't there at night.

He didn't know what it felt like to dig through the rubble with his bare hands, searching for any sign of his girlfriend. He didn't find her bag – that delicate black one her grandmother gave her – in the stones, but not her. He didn't clutch her hand while she was in the coma and pray that she'd wake up. He hadn't heard the doctor say that Delilah would never walk again. He didn't go to rehab with her...every single day.

He doesn't lay awake at night, wondering whether everything would be different if he didn't leave to take that call.

Tim chugs the rest of his wine. "I just wanted to protect her. I wasn't…I wasn't there the first time. If anything else happened to her, I couldn't live with myself. I barely do now."

"You still think this is your fault?" When Tim half-shrugs, Tony rolls his eyes. "We've been over this, Tim. Maybe she'd still be paralyzed or maybe it'd be you instead. Or maybe you'd both be dead. We'll never know because that isn't what happened. You have to accept it before you lose her."

"I've already lost her."

Tony shoots his friend a sideways glance. "I thought the Dubai contract was only a year."

Tim nods. "It is, but she still got on that plane."

"So what?" He waves his hand flippantly. "She'll be back."

There's an uneasy silence until Tim asks: "And if she stays there?"

"Then you'll move on," Tony replies, squeezing his partner's shoulder.

"Like you did with Ziva?"

At the mention of her name, Tony stiffens and drops his gaze to the bar. His fingers run over his tumbler, leaving trails in the condensation. After several long moments, his sad eyes look over. Even as drunk as he is, Tim can see he crossed a line he wasn't supposed to.

"It was different with her," Tony whispers.

But Tim can't leave it alone; he has to know what happened.

"How so?"

"I chased her around the world and she didn't ask me to stay. She's never coming back." With a sigh, Tony rests his head on his hand. "But Delilah? I know she will be."

Tim grips the bar, holding on for dear life. "Thanks for being certain when I'm not."

Nodding, Tony fishes an ice cube out of his glass, then chases it along the bar. The night melts away as the two enjoy a comfortable silence. Patrons mill around them, but they don't move…just nurse round after round. Tim's heartache ends after number five, but he keeps going in hopes he never feels anything again. Next to him, Tony sips his soda, but it's clear that his mind is with Ziva, wherever she may be.

Eventually, the house lights flash and they realize they're the only ones left. Tony settles the tab because Tim can't seem to find his wallet, even though it's still in his front pocket. When he stumbles to his feet, Tony catches his waist to guide him outside.

The air is freezing, but Tim doesn't care right now. His eyes rake across the cloudless sky. Even though it's a dim grey from the light pollution, he can still make out the tiny flickers of a few stars and low-flying planes. People going to and from Dulles, to places all over…just like Delilah.

Every minute is another mile, whisking her further and further away.

His heart catches in his throat, but he disguises it as a cough. There's no way he'll let Tony see him cry. He'd never live it down.

But Tony's too busy trying to catch a cab to notice. When one nearly runs him over, he yells a string of expletives until the next one stops. As Tony shoves him into the back, Tim lands face first on the seat. After righting himself, he tries to buckle his seatbelt, but misses by a mile.

Tony sighs, then slides into the backseat.

"Alright, Probie, I guess you need some help getting home," he mutters.

The recurrence of a long-dead nickname brings a lazy smile to Tim's face. When he rests his head on Tony's shoulder, the cab driver shoots them a dirty look in the rearview. He pushes his partner away, then laughs anxiously and adjusts his tie.

"It's not like that," Tony starts. "His girlfriend just left and – "

The cab driver clears his throat, cutting Tony off. "None of my business. Where to?"

"Silver Spring," he replies tersely.

An affirmative bark and the cab roars to life, racing down the street. When it takes a hard right, Tim falls back onto Tony's shoulder. He stays there this time, just needing to feel the weight of another person. Out of everyone he knows, Tony is the strongest and most steadfast. There's no one - other than Delilah - that he'd want here in this moment.

Tim's head whirls, but he isn't sure whether it's the wine or the cabbie's breakneck speed. Exhaustion comes out of nowhere, making him feel like his limbs weight a thousand pounds. His eyelids droop and he doesn't have the strength to hold them up anymore.

Right before he passes out, Tim hears himself slur, "So, Tony, how did you get over Ziva anyway?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Sunday, September 21, 2014 – 3:12am – Residence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs – Kingman Park, Washington, DC –**

Something shakes Tim's shoulder so he reaches to push it away. But it doesn't move, just keeps on jarring him until he pries his eyes open. Under the dim glow of the cab's dome light, his gaze darts from Tony's worried face to the cabbie's angry glare in the rearview.

"Are you two leaving or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're on our way," Tony grouses.

Grabbing Tim's upper arm with both hands, Tony yanks the younger man back out into the freezing night. He slams the door and Tim winces, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. After Tony chucks several bills through the driver's window, the cab zooms away.

It takes Tim a long moment to figure out where they are.

The entire block is dark, even the street lamps. He vaguely recognizes the mid-century two-story at the end of the short driveway. But he doesn't have the time to think when Tony drags him towards it. As they head across the lawn, the morning dew soaks through the cuff of Tim's pants.

"I don't live here," he says, but Tony ignores him.

Tim nearly trips up the porch steps, but Tony's strong hand keeps him steady. The floorboards creak under their weight as they move to the front door. Tony doesn't bother to knock, just opens the door.

Panic seizes Tim. "You can't do that, Tony. We're breaking and entering."

"If it's unlocked, we're just entering." Tony gives an exaggerated wink in the dark. "But it's okay. You asked me how I got over Ziva, so I figured I'd show you. Showing is much easier than telling."

He lets Tony hustle him into the house. The interior is simple, almost spartan. Tim can only discern a sofa and television in the moonlight that streams through the bay window. He knows he's been here before, but he just can't think. As they move deeper into the house, his foot catches on something and it clatters to the ground with a metallic thud.

Tim yelps, reaches for where his Sig should be.

"Nice job, McBurglar, you just took out a very dangerous TV tray. Remind me to leave you at home when I rob someone for real," Tony says, making Tim roll his eyes.

"Where are we anyway?"

"I'm surprised you don't remember."

"It's dark and I've had too much wine." He snickers to himself in the dark. "Too much wine is too much wine, but still not enough for me."

"Um, okay, McLightweight."

Tony's hand grips his upper arm, leading Tim through the remainder of the house. Tim thinks they move through a dining room – since he bumped into a chair – and a kitchen based on the hum of a refrigerator. Eventually, they reach a door that leads to a basement. Tony helps him down the stairs, taking them slowly to ensure Tim doesn't topple to his death. As soon as they hit the bottom, Tim squints at the sight illuminated by the the bare bulbs overhead.

There are two boats down here and two – Tim swallows hard – Gibbses.

_Oh shit. _

He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the double vision away. When he opens them again, he discovers only one boat and no Gibbs. For a moment, Tim thinks he might be going crazy until his boss ducks out from under the boat. In his hands are two sets of sandpaper.

Tony nods. "Hey boss."

"Yeah, hey boss," Tim parrots meekly, unsure why they're here.

Pausing in front of them, Tim watches his boss' eyes study him. He takes in Tim's haggard face and slouched posture, then passes them both a piece of sandpaper. Without a word, Tony takes a spot at the boat hull to start sanding.

Tim's eyes drop to the paper. "Boss?"

Gibbs crooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Get to work, McGee."

Not quite sure what's going on, Tim steps to Tony's side. When the world spins a bit, he uses his free hand to steady himself. The wood is cool and comforting under his fingertips. He copies Tony's motions, running his sandpaper over the boat. As he works, his work becomes more incensed as another wave of sorrow crashes over him. Sawdust flurries to the floor around him like a tiny, wooden snowstorm.

"Whoa there, McGee," Tony warns, "this baby still needs to be sea-worthy by the time we're done."

But Tim doesn't slow down until his boss' strong hand grips his shoulder.

"With the grain, Tim, like this."

Gibbs puts his calloused hand over Tim's to show him how to – gently – follow the grain and polish the wood to a mirror-like precision. When he crosses his arms, Tim squints until - he thinks - he sees the grain. His sandpaper jerks across the wood as the frustration bubbles inside him again.

"Let's try a different piece," Gibbs says, leading him away from the boat.

Tim is eased onto a work stool, a piece of scrap wood appearing in his hand. When Gibbs motions for him to start, Tim grits his teeth as he scratches his paper across the wood. His heart pumps in his throat as he reminds himself how Delilah leaving was his fault.

Tony was right.

If he'd just treated her like the person she was, she might have stayed with him. That ring he stashed in his sock drawer might've found its intended home on her finger. If he just had the chance.

His shoulders heave as he throws the wood to the floor.

Gibbs leans against the bench, his face impassive. "What's on your mind, Tim?"

"Delilah left today, boss."

"I know." There's a long moment before he adds: "But she needed to."

Tim buries his face in his hands. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because she probably has things she needs to accept before she moves on with her life."

Over Gibbs' shoulder, Tony makes a face as though to say, 'see? I told you so.'

Huffing, Tim pushes to his feet. He shouldn't have let Tony bring him here. He has no idea how this was supposed to help him get over Delilah and he doesn't know how this helped Tony get over Ziva. He heads for the stairs, but his legs barely hold him anymore. He's so tired.

"Where do you think you're going, Tim?" Gibbs asks.

"Home. To sleep in my bed."

"I don't think so."

Gibbs grabs one of Tim's arms while Tony takes the other. Even though he wants to fight, he doesn't have the strength to anymore. They lead him to a corner of the basement where a mattress rests on the floor and shove him down on it. A spring jabs him in the back, but since he's already lying down, he doesn't really feel like moving. Gibbs pulls an old afghan over him that smells like sawdust, bourbon and musty basement.

His eyes droop and he realizes he's far too drunk to try to escape anymore.

Grabbing a roll of paper towels off the floor, Gibbs drops onto the floor a few feet away from the mattress. He tucks it under his head, settles himself against the cold concrete.

"We'll pick up in the morning," he announces, "when McGee won't put a hole in the hull."

Tony lingers by the boat, fiddling with the lapel on his jacket. "Boss? Where should I sleep?"

"On the couch." When he doesn't move, Gibbs adds: "Unless you feel like snuggling with McGee."

Obviously having had enough in the cab, Tony heads for the stairs. "It'll be better in the morning, Probie, you'll see."

Tim perks up. "Promise?"

"Well, after the hangover makes you wish you were dead." Tony's hearty laugh echoes all the way upstairs.

Tomorrow still seems far away as Tim rolls over, desperate to get comfortable. But the stupid spring jabs him no matter where he goes. With a sigh, he just lies there and watches the ceiling spin. He wonders if Tony slept under Gibbs' watchful eye as he tried to get over Ziva.

Eventually, Gibbs mutters, "Don't forget, Tim, you're always welcome here."

"Thanks, boss," he breathes.

Gibbs lets out a surprised grunt, like he thought Tim was already asleep. Before he even knows how to reply, his boss' raucous snores resonate through the cavernous basement. For the first time since Delilah left, a smile rises to Tim's lips. No matter what happens, he knows he'll never be alone.

And somehow, he just knows everything will be okay.


End file.
